Harry Potter and the Fire Within
by blasphemy43
Summary: Harry Potter is born in fire. Harry Potter is alone. Harry Potter is afraid, mostly of himself. And then a tournament comes...


**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. But you knew that.**

The sound of fire burning was everywhere, drowning out anything else that might be heard in a normal, peaceful night.

Smells were muted as well, both by the thick, suffocating smoke and the much more intimate smell of the wool of his clothes getting singed by the flame that loomed closer and closer.

The world was aflame and he was alone huddled in a ball, knowing with the perfect clarity of someone on the verge of death that no one was coming to save him. Knowing that no one would even try to come and save him.

He could hear the staircase over his head burning, the wood breaking under its own weight, the stone cracking from the heat.

The sea of flames all around him was moving closer and closer, caressing him with its fiery embrace, eating at everything standing in its way, as if wanting nothing more than to hug the small boy in its warmth.

It would be the very first hug of his short life.

It would be the very last one as well.

The boy was sitting in the corner of his small space of the world, hugging his knees, trembling despite the heat and coughing all the while. He could barely see, even with his broken glasses on, blinded by the brightness of the flame and the darkness of the smoke.

The flames surged forward as if to swallow the boy whole. He cried out, a primal scream of fear rolling from his throat, further damaging the already strained vocal cords. Instinctively, he put his hands in front of himself, wishing for something to save him and knowing that nothing would. Waiting for the pain in his hands and then in the rest of his body, just like the time he touched the hot stove.

Then the world shifted.

Something deep and hidden shattered to pieces and reformed and suddenly the heat was not blistering but comfortable. The sounds of the cracking fire became like music. The color of the flames became beautiful instead of scary. The fire no longer wanted to eat him. It wanted to love him.

The boy blinked. And he blinked again. And then a third time, because he was confused – he had done strange things, but nothing like turning a raging inferno into the most beautiful sight in the world, without actually changing it at all.

The boy laughed a happy sound that made sense only to him.

The flames danced around him.

XXXXX

Harry Potter woke up with a gasp, disoriented and expecting a sea of fire in front of his face, reaching towards him with the intention of burning him to a crisp.

Acknowledging that there was in fact no fire around him, Harry let his taunt body relaxed, reaching to wipe the few beads of moisture that had gather on his forehead. While the temperature in the cabin that he was currently in was very pleasant, no doubt a charm of some sort that kept the occupants of the Hogwarts Express comfortable even in the deepest of winter, the particular dream always made him break out in sweat. It was natural, he supposed, seeing as it wasn't so much a dream as it was a long suffered memory. That just wouldn't leave him alone. He didn't' actually remember, precisely what happened in the dream, or when the events took place, but he was absolutely certain that it was no simple flight of his imagination. The only thing that he knew for sure is that the dream was about him and fire and was probably about the day his aunt and uncle's house burned down when he was 6. No one talked about that day and he hadn't had to courage to find out what exactly had happened, but he told himself that it was only a matter of time, every time he had the dream.

Yet he didn't. Great Gryffindor he turned out to be.

The smell of smoke hit him moments later, making him jump up and start franticly looking around, hoping that it was his imagination, but knowing full well that he had burned something. Again. After a quick self-check, he sighed in relief – at least it wasn't his clothes this time. Spontaneous fires were a natural occurrence around him, especially after this particular dream. It was one of the many reasons he hated it.

Sure enough a small flame was dancing on the couch seat next to where his hand had been. Gulping hard and thanking whoever looked over his miserable existence that the flame wasn't bigger, he whipped out his wand.

'Aguamenti,' he said after a swift, much perfected movement of the wand.

Nothing happened. In fact there was not only a distinct lack of spraying water from the tip of his wand, but it heated up. For some reason Harry got the feeling that it was somewhat cross with him.

He didn't frown though. Instead he sighed, as if what happened was a foreign conclusion, not something to be surprised or worried about. And it was. Although he was sure he was doing everything perfectly, he had never managed to produce even a drop of water.

He tried the charm once more, with the same lack of result, before putting his wand away back in his sleeve.

He fixed the flame with a look and gestured with his thumb and forefinger, as if snuffing a candle. The flame on the couch disappeared with the barest hint of smoke, leaving partially burned couch stuffing behind it.

Sitting down on the opposite side, Harry pressed his faded scar to the cool window looking towards the unfamiliar landscape outsight of it. This was the fourth year he rode on the train towards the school since he turned 11 and he had yet to become familiar with the path that the train traveled. But judging by the sun it wouldn't be long before he had to done his uniform and get ready for another year of miserable experiences in the greatest magical school in the world Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Not that there was any difference between Witchcraft and Wizardry but grand names were important.

It was every so fun to be the boy-who-lived, especially when everyone expected you to be the next Merlin and you were under the line of averages, when judged by magical talents.

He heard the door of his compartment opening. Harry felt faintly curious about who would take the time to visit him, when he had purposely searched out a compartment where he could be alone and avoid fumbling for excuses when he set something on fire. The incidents were growing more regular and that worried him, especially when he still couldn't find anything similar in the library and Madam Pomfrey made him out to be completely fine physically. Everyone in the castle knew that Harry Potter was not the best person to associate with. Knowledge that was largely pedaled by the teenager in question himself, ever since first year and the Troll incident. It could be a new student of course, but that was unlikely, this far into the journey.

That left only one plausible possibility.

Harry moved his head to look at the door where a blonde boy with looks perfectly tailored to scream money was standing, a sneer of contempt on his face.

Of course it was him. Draco Malfoy. Sometimes Harry thought that he could make a calendar on the boy's taunting sessions.

'Well, well, well. If it isn't Potter himself,' the boy drawled in a rather annoying, I'm-better-than-you voice. 'All alone this year too are we? No surprises here it seems.'

'So it would seem, Malfoy,' Harry answered neutrally, carefully controlling his reactions. 'But it seems that as always, you have come to visit. How was your summer?'

'It was quite excellent, actually. As you probably do not know, the Qudditch world cup was held this summer. I, as a Malfoy, had the best seats, right next to the minister in his box,' Draco answered smugly, as if that statement alone had the power to make me jealous and explode at him. 'Quite grand you see. I'm not surprised that I didn't see you there. The ticket sellers probably draw the line at squibs, even if they are the all so famous boy-who-lived-by some coincidence. Now if only they didn't let mudbloods in.'

Harry only raised an eyebrow at the comment. The squib line alone had gotten old years ago and the mudblood one didn't bother him too much – it was just a word and words were worth exactly as much as you made them affect you.

'But then again it really isn't your fault now is it Potter,' Draco continued. 'I haven't figured out where to put the blame yet, really. Should it be your mother for being a filthy mudblood, or your father for sullying his line?'

Harry froze, his whole body going tense. These were words too. Simple words, not much of an insult. He'd heard it tens of times in his time in Hogwarts, mostly from the same boy that now stood before him. It still remained the only surefire way to make him lose his cool. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding, with the effort of not doing anything he would most definitely regret.

A faint smell of smoke filled the room.

'Leave Malfoy. Now.'

A smirk came on Draco's face, a sure sign that he had in fact noticed how much he had annoyed the other boy.

Yet he didn't leave, a thoughtful look on his face. Harry was sure that Draco was wondering if he should escalate the conflict or leave it for later in the year.

He really hoped that Draco didn't choose to say anything else. There was a fire in his head and it wanted to be introduced to the Malfoy heir.

Finally the boy decided that he had had enough fun for now and turned to leave.

'Be seeing you Potter,' he said over his shoulder with a smirk that promised that this year would not be any different than the past three.

The compartment door closed behind his back. His footsteps echoed down the corridor.

Harry's body slowly relaxed. The smell of smoke disappeared without being noticed by the agitated teenager. After making completely sure he was calm, Harry gave himself a pat on the back.

He had managed to hold his temper, if only barely. He was obviously getting better at that.

That was a very good thing. Unfortunate things tended to happen when Harry Potter let his emotions loose. Just one of the many reasons Harry Potter tended to keep to himself whenever possible.

And lately it had become much worse. As if something inside him was fighting to break loose. The dreams had become an almost nightly occurrence the past summer and Harry often wondered how exactly he would keep them a secret from his roommates in the Gryffindor fourth year dorm. Privacy wasn't something practiced there and even Ron, the most unobservant person in the world would probably notice the singed linens that came after the dream.

With a sigh Harry put the thought out of his head, as yet another thing that he had no control over. The list of those was becoming way too big for his preference these days.

Harry took out his wand, holding it between his hands. There was some truth to the claim that he was a squib as Malfoy had so eloquently put it, at least from the limited perspective that Hogwarts classes offered. While he had pretty good grades in History of Magic, Herbology, Astronomy, Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, he was on the brink of failing in all the wanded courses. For some reason the magic taught in class seemed to refuse to work for him. He had painstakingly gone over all the basic wand movements, until they had become second nature and he was currently struggling to do the same with the advanced movements. He had studied every single spell they had tried in class until his eyes bled. And yet he simply couldn't do the spells. Just like the simple Aguamenti that he had tried earlier, nothing happened. As if he wasn't magical at all.

Well that wasn't completely true. Sometimes things happened and sometimes the magic even worked, very reluctantly and with much protest from his wand. There were some spells that worked for him, worked very well indeed. Every single fire based spell they had learned, few as they were, had worked without fail, coming out much better than the ones' cast by the rest of his classmates.

Not to mention the fires that just happened around him, mostly without his approval. Or the snuffing out of the fires, that happened with his approval.

The first one he despised. No, not despised. He didn't actively hate it. He feared it. He feared the fire. He feared himself. That was probably the reason he had learned to put out fires on his own time, going by instinct, despite the faint feeling of regret he got whenever he used that particular skill.

And of course, the main reason he feared himself just had to walk through the corridor, waiving her hands animatedly to explain one point or another, the faint burn scar on he left hand clearly visible. Hermione Granger and her constant companion and probably only friend Neville Longbottom. The Troll incident, as Harry called it, had not been pretty for anyone, but especially for the girl who had tried being his friend. In the end the Dursleys' were right – he really didn't deserve friends, even if he was with freaks like him now. Not that there were any freaks of his particular kind.

And yet, for a moment, Harry wanted nothing more than to open the door invite them in and participate in their conversation joking and laughing with them. He buried the impulse deep and burned it to ashes. He turned his head back to the window, impatiently waiting for the trip to end.

He didn't need anyone. And no one deserved to be burdened with him.

He missed the small look Hermione sent him, before continuing past the door.

XXXXX

Harry Potter was sitting on the edge of the Gryffindor table, not really paying any attention to the sorting of the first year students. He clapped when the rest of his house did and tried to draw as little attention as possible.

The Weasely twins were whispering furiously between themselves, no doubt planning another prank that would put another notch on Harry's personal "The Twins Are Insane" list, all capitals. That list was getting pretty big as well. He was thinking of publishing it after they graduate. It should sell pretty well, if it had attached stories for every item on the list.

Fortunately, the two hadn't tried anything on him after that one time in first year when he had woken up to a firework exploding right in the middle of the dorm and the twins laughing in hysterics telling them it was time for breakfast.

Harry had been scared out of his wits and half asleep at that point.

The dorm had needed a new bed for him that day.

Of course the twins had never said anything to him, even after they had gotten detention for setting a fire inside the castle, but they had started keeping their distance and so had the rest of their year, as well as their Qudditch friends. If Harry had to guess, they were somewhat afraid that a first year could turn his bed, which was made of solid wood, to ashes in seconds with what they considered accidental magic.

Soon all of the new students were sorted and sitting on their respected tables, some looking terrified, some delighted. There was one such girl on the seat next to Harry looking completely lost, almost panicked.

Harry considered for a moment talking to the child, but then dropped the idea as a no go. He wasn't exactly the most social person at the table, far from it and it wouldn't do to break his carefully constructed cocoon of social isolation just to help a kid that would feel better in a week, tops.

Instead Harry turned to the food that had just appeared on the table and started filling his plate without actually considering what he was taking. Conversation broke around all the tables, filling the Great Hall with the sounds of chatting students and the clicks of forks and knifes on plates. All in all it was pretty standard and peaceful, as far as opening feasts went.

'Uuuum,' a small voice said.

Harry lifted his head and looked to his left where the little girl was staring at him with a frightened look.

'Is this food… safe?' She asked.

Harry gulped down his food, making the assumption that the girl was muggleborn and outside of Diagon Ally this was probably her first real exposure to magic. He was preparing to answer her that the food was perfectly safe, when a voice that he knew fairly well shouted out from the middle of the table.

'Hey, squirt, don't go talking to Potter, you wouldn't want to be labeled a loser from the moment you step in now would you?'

Laughter followed the statement, and the girl ducked her head, her face flushing at being in the center of attention.

Ron Weasely, a dorm mate of Harry's was the one who spoke up. He had tried making friends with Harry and for a while it had worked out, but after the Troll incident, Harry had pushed him away, as he did with everyone else. Ron hadn't taken it too well. Evidently he could hold a grudge like no other, as he showed at every possible moment. Still he had made good for himself and was pretty popular, at least in Gryffindor.

'So, Potter are you going to try out for the house team this year, or did you get cold feet again. Or was it hot feet?'

More laughter. Everyone remembered the story of how the first time Harry tried to ride a broom, it had exploded in a shower of burning wood. No one seemed to remember that Draco had been taunting Neville and had stopped instantly because the flying instructor had come back to give a big speech on broom security to Harry.

People liked to make fun of him, for being way below average in all of the wanded subjects and at the same time for having what they called bursts of accidental magic quite often. Most wizards stopped doing accidental magic after they started their schooling, except under extreme duress. Accidental magic was considered the sign of a child, of lack of control over one's magic, something completely inexcusable in a society that revolved around the tip of the wand. Harry made flames on the drop of a hat.

'But it really doesn't matter if you try, now does it? It's not like you aren't going to fail like you fail at everything,' Ron continued with his taunting.

Harry just looked down, ignoring everyone around him. That was easy. From the other student's point of view he probably looked ashamed or flustered from the taunts. But he wasn't, not in the least. He was having a harder time ignoring the voice inside him which pleaded to be let loose.

For a moment his vision doubled. He saw Ron's laughing, freckled face, his red hair, the people around him, the Great Hall, animated with laughter and conversation. Overlapping with reality was a different picture. He could see the face burning, the red hair turned to actual flames, the Great Hall turning to ashes, the flames dancing for him.

Harry wanted to be left alone.

The voice inside him wanted to burn the world.

He really was going insane.

XXXXX

Some time later, the feast was at its end, with little happenings of note. As was usual, the headmaster stood up and clapped his hands, making the food disappear from the plates.

'So! Now that we are all fed and watered,' Dumbledore said in a jolly voice 'I must once more ask for your attention while I give out a few notices.'

'Mr Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming yo-yo's, Fanged Frisbees and Ever Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises of some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it.'

Nothing new here – it sometimes seemed that Filch followed the newest additions to Zonko's even more closely than the twins. Harry was pretty sure that the list with forbidden items could reliably be used as a catalogue.

'As ever, I would like to remind you all that the Forest in the grounds is out of bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all those below third year.'

You'd think that calling a forest forbidden would be very self-explanatory, but there you have it. It was probably for the benefit of the first years, but really Hogwarts, make a brochure.

'It is also my painful duty to inform you that the inter-house Quidditch Cup will not take place this year.'

A pained shout coming from all of the tables interrupted the Headmaster's speech, followed by shouted questions and expression of disapproval. Dumbledore let it go on for several moments, continuing to smile good naturally and then he lifted his arm's silencing the hall almost instantly.

'This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy - but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts-'

The speech was once more interrupted by the slamming of the doors of the Great Hall. What walked in could only vaguely be called a man, as Harry could attest perfectly, seeing as how he was relatively close to the entrance. Walking on a fake wooden leg, which managed to make him look more dangerous somehow, a man of medium statue walked in. He had somewhat long and shaggy grey hair. His face was probably lined from age, but it was hard to tell as he had more scars than anyone had any business surviving. Part of his nose was missing for Merlin's sake! Not to mention the outrageous, fake eye that spun around in the socket in every direction, including to the back of his head. As the man walked towards the teacher's table, he unhooked a flask from his belt and took a quick sling from it. Harry turned his eyes towards the teacher's table, studiously ignoring Snape's eyes. None of the teachers seemed surprised at the abrupt entrance, so the man was obviously expected. Maybe not welcome, judging by the face Snape was making and how tight McGonagall's lips were, but expected nonetheless.

The man sat down giving a quick nod to the Headmaster, who returned it.

'May I introduce our new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Moody.' Dumbledore said spreading his arms towards the man, no, Moody. The new Professor did not acknowledge the introduction in any way, but continued looking around the room as if waiting for someone to attack him. Not that Harry blamed him. Judging by all those scars it wouldn't be the first time someone had attacked him, if it did happen. Polite applause followed the Headmaster's introduction, less so from the Slytherin table, more so from individual people or small groups in the other tables.

Dumbledore raised his hands again, commanding the Hall to silence.

'As I was saying, we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event which has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.'

Excited whispers broke out in the Hall, mostly from people explaining to their friends what they knew or had heard about the tournament.

'The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago, as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry - Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang,' Dumbledore said, silencing the hall again and incidentally making the previous discussions of overheard tales completely unnecessary. 'A champion was selected to represent each school, and three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the Tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities - until, that is the death toll mounted so high that the Tournament was discontinued.'

A gasp echoed, as well as the general murmur asking why in Merlin's name would someone want to reestablish a tournament that led to death, when there were probably much safer opportunities for sponsoring international cooperation.

'There have been several attempts over the centuries to re-instate the Tournament, none of which have been very successful. However, our own Departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that, this time, no champion will put himself or herself in mortal danger.'

Very unlikely, Harry thought, since the tournament was obviously interesting because it put people in mortal danger. In fact why even call it the Triwizard tournament in the first place if it was going to be some watered down version. Just tack an inspired by and be done with it.

'The Heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school and a thousand Galleons personal prize money.'

Excited murmurs ones again. Eternal glory was great and all, even though most people, even the purebloods hadn't heard about the tournament before today, but a thousand galleons was nothing to sneeze at – with that much money you could start your own business in Diagon Alley, if you were careful with what you sign. Harry had a bit of money in his trust fund, and he had considered what he wants to do after finishing school, seeing as most conventional professions weren't suited for his lack of spell casting ability. He'd been thinking of financing someone with a good idea and hoping for a return, repeating the action ad infinitum or at least until he ran out of money and had to go to Africa to hide from the goblin enforcers after his head.

'Eager though I know you all will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts, the Heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose and age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age - that is to say, seventeen years or older - will be allowed to put their names forward for consideration. This-'

Booing could he heard from every table, even the Slytherin's, who were normally much more controlled than the rest of the school. No one was louder than the Weasley twins though, seeing as how their birthdays were just a few months short.

A sound that sounded like canon fire came from the wand of the Headmaster instantly silencing the booing crowd of students.

'Ahem' Dumbledore cleared his throat, continuing to speak as if nothing had happened at all. 'This is a measure that we feel is necessary, given that the Tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion.'

OK, the tasks are dangerous, but at the same time they aren't you'll die dangerous? How exactly does work? Harry had some experience with death defying escapades, much to his annoyance and in his limited experience, when dealing with magic it was either safe or potentially deadly, and the first type of magic wasn't all that common.

'I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen.'

Bad choice of words, harry thought. Very bad choice of words. He could already see the minds of the Weasley twins going into overdrive over the possible ways they could enter.

'The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October, and remaining with us for a greater part of this year. I know that you will extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!'

Harry was quick to leave the table taking a shortcut through the castle hoping to reach the tower first. He wasn't feeling very sociable at all and dearly hoped that he could manage a Silencio today, so as not to hear the welcoming party that was sure to break out in the common room.

At least with all the Tournament commotion he shouldn't have too big of a problem to stand out of the spotlight this year. Maybe he'd even find a way to stop his problem with spontaneous fires.

And with the dream that made spontaneous fires.

And with all the smoke smell every time he got mad.

And with the undeniable desire to burn Hogwarts to rubble, laughing all the way.

It was going to be a rough year.

**Author's Notes:**

**It seems I'm not dead. I realize some people are probably disappointed that I'm not updating Nindo, but I've kind of lost my purpose with the story after so much time of inactivity (brought along by real life obligations). For now I'll leave it alone, but I hope I can continue writing it, at some point. In the meanwhile, I hope you enjoy this. If you find any errors, please let me know. Also I'd appreciate knowing if you liked it or hated it. I'm pretty uncertain if this holds up.**


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